


Sweeter

by delboyanddier



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Valentine's Day, england nt, jarcus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 13:37:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17788391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delboyanddier/pseuds/delboyanddier
Summary: Marcus makes chocolate-dipped strawberries with Jesse. It turns out sweeter than expected.





	Sweeter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! This is my first fic so I appreciate all your feedback! Happy reading <3

“Beans, you got to try one of these.” Jesse holds out a strawberry with a chocolate shell. On the kitchen counter, there’s an army of berries before them, some chocolate-coated and others bare red, alongside swathes of parchment paper and bowls of melted chocolate. Since Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, Marcus was roped into making chocolate-dipped strawberries because, as Jesse puts it, “the lads will love it.” 

“Beaaaans,” Jesse shoves the strawberry in Marcus’s face, “Try it, mate.”

Marcus rolls his eyes. He should pluck the berry from Jesse’s hand, but instead he holds Jesse’s wrist still and wraps his mouth around the berry. He bites into it and his eyes widen as juice and chocolate explode on his tongue. Fuck, their teammates are going to _love_ these.

“Good innit?” Jesse asks, not bothering to pull his wrist from Marcus’s grasp.

“That’s amazing,” Marcus all but moans when he finishes the berry, which makes Jesse laugh. Marcus realizes he’s still holding Jesse’s wrist and lets go of him.

“Almost as tasty as you,” Jesse winks and wraps his lips around a strawberry. Marcus flushes United red and rolls his eyes as Jesse’s grin grows.

“You have a date for tomorrow?” Marcus changes the subject, even when it makes his chest ache. Marcus likes the flirtatious comments, but he knows it’s banter. Jesse’s smile falters a little at the question.

“There’s someone I’d like to ask out but. Dunno if he feels the same way.” Jesse’s eyes flick up to Marcus, then away as he tosses his strawberry stem in the bin. A sad smile tugs at the corner of Jesse’s lips when Marcus belatedly processes his words.

“You’re gay?” 

As soon as the words leave his lips, Marcus wants to take them back, wants to ask that differently. But Jesse just laughs. 

“C’mon, Beans. Obvious innit?” Jesse asks, but Marcus remains wide-eyed and quiet.

“Really, ya didn’t know? ‘Be yourself’. My massive crush on Welbz a few years ago.” Jesse dips a strawberry in chocolate, places it on parchment paper and Marcus feels his stomach sink at the last part.

“I thought you would ‘ave known, ya know,” Jesse shakes his head and banters Marcus off, smile playing on his lips, “Bad friend, you are.” 

“I thought- I always thought it was wishful thinkin’ and that.” Marcus turns around and stirs a pot of chocolate melting on the stove, hoping to hide the strawberry flush spreading on his face. _Wishful thinking? Why would he say that?_

“Wishful thinkin’? How’s that?” 

Marcus spins around, stomach leaping when warm, chocolate eyes burn into his. Marcus swallows, leans his forearms on the counter behind him and takes a deep breath. 

“Jess, if it’s obvious you’re gay, it must be obvious I fancy- fuck!” Marcus yelps and pulls his hand off the burner. He internally curses his carelessness as Jesse flies across the kitchen. Marcus blinks and there’s a warm hand encircling his wrist and holding his palm under cold water.

“Mate, you alright? Oh my days, the skin’s so red.” Jesse’s brows furrow, eyes focused on the burn. He licks his lips and Marcus follows the movement. Chiding himself internally, Marcus tears his gaze away and looks at the cool tap water rushing over his hand. For some reason, his wrist, held gently by Jesse, burns more than his reddening palm.

Marcus assures Jesse that he’s fine several times, since Jesse keeps asking. Then silence stretches between them. Only the trickle of water cuts through the quietness of the kitchen.

“Jess-”

“Beans-”

They both stop, mouths opening and closing. Then they laugh.

“You go.” Marcus flicks off the tap, looks anywhere but Jesse.

“Earlier you was saying that, ya know, you-,” Jesse rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

“Who do ya fancy, Marcus?”

Marcus feels all the air rush out of his lungs as expectant eyes bore into his. His lips open and close, but no words come out. Fuck it, he can communicate with his mouth in a different way. 

His hand comes up to hold Jesse’s face and Marcus surges forward. He moves his lips against Jesse’s, slow and insistent. When Jesse stays rigid, Marcus stops and pulls away.

“Shit, Jesse, I thought- I read that wrong, I’m sorry-“ 

“I’m not.” Jesse surges forward, presses their noses together, and cradles Marcus’s cheekbones in his hands. Their lips melt together and something melts in Marcus’s chest. 

At first, it’s a tentative, tender press of lips. A hesitant hand strokes Jesse’s waist. Then Jesse’s lips move against his, drinking him in. Marcus wonders if Jesse tastes sweet, like chocolate-dipped strawberries, so he licks, then bites his lips and a shiver wracks Jesse’s body. 

His wet palm finds Jesse’s waist and pulls his body against him, probably soaking his shirt. But Jesse, hands grasping Marcus’s nape, doesn’t seem to care. If anything, he pulls Marcus impossibly closer, parts his lips with his tongue and elicits a deep groan from the younger man. 

Their tongues tangle together as Marcus sneaks a hand up Jesse’s shirt, slides a palm across soft skin and firm abs. It’s like Jesse wants to swallow every sound Marcus makes, mouth attacking Marcus’s lips and drinking in his moans. After Marcus lets out a particularly loud groan, he grabs Jesse by the hips and slams his back into the counter.

Now it’s Jesse who moans, hands caressing Marcus’s biceps, his chest. The younger moves his lips to Jesse’s neck, sucks and nips gently, which makes Jesse cry out Marcus’s name and all at once Marcus registers an erection poking his hip and his own hardness pressing against Jesse. Marcus pulls off Jesse’s neck.

“Jess, want you now. So bad.” Marcus pants, hot breath hitting Jesse’s ear. Jesse pulls back and locks eyes with Marcus.

“Then have me.”

Still lost in Jesse’s hooded gaze, Marcus grabs the back of his thighs and lifts him onto the counter. He thumbs the edge of Jesse’s shirt and raises his eyebrows. Jesse mutters something like “of course, fuck” and he yanks the shirt over his head and strips Marcus of his, too. Then unsatiated lips find Marcus’s again. 

Marcus maps out Jesse’s body, caresses his biceps, chiseled pecs, washboard abs. Lower still, his fingers find Jesse’s sweats, the waistband. He palms his cock and all the air rushes out of Jesse’s lungs. Latching his lips on Jesse’s neck again, Marcus wonders if Jesse will kill him when he sees the violet bites. But when Marcus works a hand over his hard cock and Jesse cries out in pleasure, when he sucks another bruise and Jesse whimpers his name, Marcus thinks it might be worth it. 

Marcus pulls down the waistband and a hard shaft smacks into washboard abs, the pink head already leaking beads of precum. Jesse exhales and shudders when warm fingers wrap around his cock. Then Marcus moves his hand. Sometimes he drags his palm along the shaft. Sometimes he accelerates the tempo, slides his hand up and down, up and down so “Marcus, fuck” and “Baby, please” crescendo on Jesse’s lips. All it takes is a few more strokes, a lick down Jesse’s neck, before Jesse yells his name and paints their stomachs with cum. 

For a moment, Marcus lets Jesse rest his head on his shoulder, rubs a hand on his side. Then he pulls away, finds a hand towel and wipes the cum off their abdomens. 

“So good, baby. You’re so good.” Jesse whispers, grinning as Marcus flushes. When Marcus finishes wiping off the cum, Jesse hooks two fingers under the striker's chin and pecks his lips. The kiss makes something flutter in Marcus’s chest and Jesse’s smirk makes something flip in his stomach.

“Your turn now.” Jesse slides off the counter and onto his knees. Marcus could get off to the sight of that alone - Jesse kneeling in front of his clothed, hardening cock. Pulling off his sweatpants, Jesse wastes no time freeing his erection. Marcus gasps when a warm hand squeezes and strokes his shaft. Then, to Marcus’s surprise, pinks lips lower themselves to kiss the veins, the head of his penis. 

Running his mouth along the sides of the shaft, Jesse looks up at Marcus with doe eyes. Marcus swears and tangles a hand in the forward’s dark hair. A smirk tugs at Jesse’s lips as he wraps his mouth around the head, as he swallows some of the shaft. Sinking down the length, Jesse locks eyes with Marcus when his nose brushes against his pelvis. 

“Oh my days, fuck.” Marcus feels his dick twitch in Jesse’s throat, who still holds his gaze. Then Jesse slides down to the head. Only to immediately swallow the entire length again. Marcus groans as Jesse’s head flies up and down his shaft. His hips snap forward and he’s about to apologize but instead, Jesse slackens his jaw and looks up at him. Gripping Jesse’s hair tighter, Marcus thrusts into his hot throat as carefully as possible, mesmerized as his cock slides in and out those perfect pink lips. Heat flares in his stomach and he pulls himself out of Jesse’s mouth. 

“Jess, I’m gonna cum.” Marcus exhales a shaky breath. Jesse only smirks up at him, kitten licks his cock.

“Then cum.”

And Jesse swallows him again. Marcus moans, chants his lover’s name as Jesse bobs his head a few more times, as Marcus feels the flames of arousal engulf his abdomen. And he lets go. White hot cum shoots down Jesse’s throat. As Marcus comes down from his high, he loosens his grip in Jesse’s hair and shudders as he watches Jesse lick up every last drop of cum.

Marcus feels hot breath on his thigh as Jesse presses his face against it. Heavy breathing fills the quiet room. Marcus strokes the side of Jesse’s face, his hair before he extends a hand and hoists up the footballer. For a moment, they just lean against each other. Jesse sighs contentedly into Marcus’s neck, who wraps his arms around the shorter man and rubs circles into his back. 

“I was right, ya know.” Jesse pulls back a little and looks up. He laughs a little when Marcus raises his eyebrows, before the older Mancunian presses their foreheads together.

“You are tastier than the strawberries.”

“Maybe you should have another taste,” Marcus swallows, heart stuttering a little, eyes falling to Jesse’s lips, “To be sure and that.”

Two hands cup Marcus’s face and pull him down. Their noses brush together and light dances in their eyes. Jesse’s lips taste sweet against his and Marcus smiles into the kiss.

*****

They distribute containers of strawberries after their Valentine’s Day practice. The crunch of chocolate shells and satisfied groans fill the locker room, so Marcus assumes their teammates enjoy the treats.

“Wow, who needs a girlfriend when I have you, Jess.” Paul bites into his last strawberry, bliss spreading across his face. Jesse laughs and even though Marcus knows it’s banter, he still feels something lurch in his stomach.

“Thought you had a date tonight though?” Jesse tugs off his grass-stained kit and pulls on a clean shirt, “Did Ole reserve some place nice for his French prodigy?”

A laugh escapes Marcus and Jesse looks over at him, a pleased smile growing on his lips. Even Anthony laughs - a rare sight that still takes Marcus aback - as he pulls on clean sweatpants. Paul rolls his eyes, swats Jesse on the back of the head.

“Nah, mate. He fancies an English forward, I think. Speaking of, you have a date tonight?” 

“Dunno,” Jesse looks over at Marcus, “Do I have a date, Rashy?” The question makes something swoop in Marcus’s stomach. He pulls his sweaty kit over his head, hopes it hides the flush consuming his face, if only for a moment. 

“Depends. Where ya taking me?” His stomach swoops again as he feels Jesse’s gaze linger on his toned abs, his bare chest, before their eyes meet.

“Definitely the bedroom,” Jesse smirks, steps closer to Marcus. 

“Oh my days. Romantic, you are.” Marcus scoffs, but wraps an arm around the shoulders of the shorter Mancunian, “I’m thinkin’ you only like my body, Jess.”

“I do like it, to be fair.” Jesse chuckles, shy smile on his face. Marcus can _feel_ Anthony roll his eyes and Paul whoops, shouts “I told you so” across the locker room. 

“But everything about you drives me mad.” 

The lads’ banter, even Paul shouting that Romelu owes him £100, becomes distant when Jesse places a hand on Marcus’s face, when warm eyes hold his gaze. When, for just a moment, soft lips meet his. 

Jesse pulls away. But Marcus fists his shirt, gives into the need to tug Jesse closer and kiss him harder. Because when it comes to Jesse, the man cupping his face and smiling against his lips, Marcus has yet to taste something sweeter.


End file.
